


Focus

by MarisFerasi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BDSM, Cock Cages, Cock Warming, Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom/sub Play, Edging, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Ejaculation, M/M, Mating Plugs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Play, Praise Kink, Snex- snake sex, Sounding, Spider Gag, Sub Crowley (Good Omens), Switching, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarisFerasi/pseuds/MarisFerasi
Summary: a drop zone of very explicit BDSM-adjacent (and frankly probably absurdly fluffy at times, knowing me) scenes between our favorite angelic and demonic idiots. These are mostly scenes I can't quite figure how to insert anywhere else. Most chapters can be read stand-alone, if they tie in i will make a note and/or adjust chapters to coincide.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	1. Used

"Relax," Aziraphale soothes his friend, petting one hand up the knobs of Crowley's sweaty spine. The hard, lean body beneath his hand ripples with strain, but still vibrates with pleasure.

" _Fffssssss_ , s'easy for you to say, angel. _Christ_!" Crowley bites the duvet beneath his cheek and flexes his hips, bearing down. With some inexorable and persistent effort on part of both angel and demon, the large, ridged plug slides in the last inch into one tight, demonic arse. Aziraphale paints a wet finger around the shiny-slick rim of his mate where his hole stretches around the narrow neck of the toy, clutching it tightly inside.

"Beautiful, my darling." He keeps one hand on Crowley's trembling flank and turns back to the tray of selected toys for their playtime. 

" _Fffuck_." Crowley huffs, chest heaving. He shifts on his shoulders and knees, hips wiggling to help the toy settle more comfortably, deep inside. The length and consistent girth of the toy push it against his prostate with a constant pressure.

His wrists are limp on the bed between his spread knees, unconnected for now but wrapped in supple leather cuffs that have been stamped with runes. They prevent his use of miracles, but don't otherwise dampen his occult magic. He is just as durable as without them, but is hampered by not being able to snap his way out of whatever irritating position Aziraphale has put him in. 

And he fucking _loves it_. 

"Roll over my dear, legs spread." Aziraphale keeps a hand on Crowley's thigh, helping him push up onto his hands and then roll to the side and re-center where the angel wants him. His cock is flushed, the head peeking out and drooling with want. It leaves a smear on one cream-colored shirt cuff. 

"Tsk," Aziraphale tutts at him. "I told you not to get so worked up. Now we'll have to get rid of that silly nuisance." He picks up an ice pack and lays it over Crowley's lap, hands ready to pin the demon's hips when he predictably starts to whine and wriggle away from the freezing fabric. "Stay _still_. If you hadn't gotten so worked up we wouldn't have had to do this, now would we?" 

"No," Crowley grouses, gritting his teeth. His cock wilts, going numb under the icy assault. With a whimper, he exhales as Aziraphale pulls the pack away and shows him the next toys. 

A tapered metal sound, and the dreaded cock cage. 

"Why don't you just make me get rid of the effort entirely?" Crowley asks, wincing at the foreign sensation of a fine-tipped tube of lube being upended into his meatus. He feels the cool liquid slide down from within, and then the body-warmed metal of the sound at his cockhead. 

"The _absence_ of genitals is not the same as having them and being _unable to use them_ ," the angel answers in that posh way of his, as though he was explaining it to a curious stranger on the tube and not his own lover. "It's about _temptation_ my dear. Dangling the carrot." Aziraphale pushes the sound in to the desired width and holds it there a few minutes, encouraging the muscles within Crowley's cock to relax for long-term intrusion. He pulls it out slowly and places the metal cock cage sleeve over Crowley's flaccid member, attaching it to the tight ring circling the root of the demon's cock and balls with a tiny, angelically-sealed padlock.

Now for the final addition. Crowley lets out a gust of breath and grimaces, hating how much this treatment appeales to them both. 

Aziraphale was right, it was a very _effective_ temptation. One of the most effective, if Crowley is being an honest demon. Which he of course isn't.

Not at all. 

"Yyyy-not sure _temptation_." Crowley lies, like a liar. "More like...fff, uh. More like _desperation_." He stammers as the duelling sensations of _wrong_ and _perfect_ assailed his nerves, the discomfort of the decompression of the cock cage and the foreign pleasure of the flexible sound tube going inside of his cock and then twisting into place at the tip of the cage. The flexible tube is deep within him, reaching nearly as far as his unused bladder, but the other end is fastened to the metal tip of the cage, holding his soft cock in stasis, hollowed out and open for drooling precome when Aziraphale starts teasing him again (unless the angel plugs it, the buildup of which would make for an astounding orgasm if he is allowed it, later). 

Or a cruel milking, if punishment is in the cards.

Either option has Crowley vibrating with anticipation.

"Up you go. I have paperwork to do today. Taxes!" Aziraphale claps his hands and grins at Crowley's (slightly petulant) frown as he helps the redhead onto his feet. 

The angel maneuvers down to his shop and makes sure everything is locked tightly, the desk shoved out of view of any windows, and the lights off aside from his desk lamp. He hears Crowley waddle down a minute behind, walking awkwardly with the heft of the plug within him. Aziraphale miracles a plush kneeling pillow under his desk and stands by it, waiting. He puts the final toy for the day on the desk top when Crowley enters the room. 

"Glasses back off, darling. The shop is definitely closed, today. And the dressing gown," Aziraphale frowns as though the silk has personally offended him. 

"Uh," Crowley stares at the spider gag on the desk, his yellow eyes flitting to the cushion, and then back to Aziraphale. His split tongue flicks out and wets his bottom lip, the rawness of anticipation building. 

"Yes, my dear. You will sit under the desk and service me orally today, while I work. I believe it's called _cockwarming_." 

" _Hell's teeth_ angel, you should not know that. I-- _okay_ ," Crowley chokes, turning an alarming but fetching shade of pink. He sheds the silk robe and tosses his glasses to the sofa and waits to be told what else to do.

"Now. Your mouth will be full, so we can't use our standard stoplight procedure, but you will snap your fingers if you need up, do you understand?" Aziraphale gives Crowley a pointed look and waits until the demon nods (albeit with a dramatic huff and eyeroll) before tugging him close for a bone-rattling, serpent-spine-melting kiss. He pulls away first, leaving Crowley chasing with his mouth, eyes half lidded. "Get comfortable my darling, you'll be there all day." Aziraphale steps back and points to the cushion, urging Crowley to crawl into the dark cubby under the desk and get situated on his knees.

He gives Aziraphale a dazed sort of glance and goes willingly enough.

Only once there does he see the carabiner attached to the seat of the chair at the front edge, and the two carabiners hooked to the sides of the desk legs. 

He's going to be effectively immobilized and used, probably for several hours. The thought alone has his cock pulsing in its confinement, his arse clenching around the unforgiving weight holding him stretched open. He makes a strangled noise and holds his hands up in offering. 

Aziraphale smiles beatifically and sits, hooking his dearest friend's wrists to the legs of the desk with quick, efficient movements. Once Crowley is spread out and suspended, Aziraphale reaches for the spider gag and unclasps it, talking. "Now, darling, I am going to push your boundaries a bit, today. It will be a bit uncomfortable, but you must remember that you do not _actually_ need to breathe. Once you relax I think you will find the service of it quite freeing, as you normally do." Crowley shoots him a grimace, but there is no heat in it. Aziraphale chuffs a laugh and continues, reaching down and slotting the circle of the gag behind Crowley's overly-sharp canines. "You will take me into your throat," he pauses to pet a finger down the seam of the probing, split tongue poking through the gag, and smiles. "And your collar will be clipped here," he touches the carabiner between his thighs, "which means you cannot pull away. What are you to do if you need to stop?" 

Crowley starts to say "snap" but it comes out garbled, so he mimes it instead. He can reach Aziraphale's thigh from where his hands are attached to the desk, which is a comfort in itself. He will always want to be able to touch his angel.

Aziraphale smiles, pleased, and nods. "Yes my dear. And if I grow hard, you will use that talented tongue and your throat to bring me to orgasm. You will swallow any release dutifully, and remain there. If I remain soft, you will simply sit and hold me on your tongue. Do you understand?" 

Crowley nods fervently, cock thrumming under the cage. A stream of clear precome oozes out, drooling on the cushion. He can't even feel it, the tube inside his cock prevents all sensation. He is _unbearably_ turned on and has nowhere for this energy to go. There will be no pain today, nothing to focus on except this act of service and the vague notion of a reward at the end for doing well. He doesn't even know how long it will go on, only that he is at Aziraphale's whim. 

"Yes, angel," Crowley garbles out around the gag, leaning into the touch of Aziraphale's gentle fingers brushing through his hair. He dips down and nuzzles into the open flies of the angel's trousers, urging him to finally take his cock out. 

"My dear, sweet boy. You are so good to me. Come here, slowly now, nice and wet so it doesn't get dry and hurt you. That's it." 

Crowley licks at the thick length of his angel's cock, taking a bit more at a time so that it's a smooth, wet glide. Aziraphale gives in and thrusts a few times, slicking the way further by dipping into the thick spit at the back of the demon's throat. It spreads the way forward, coating his tongue and the roof of his mouth quickly, dripping down the sides and over the heavy plums of the angel's bollocks. 

"Now, darling. You will take me as deep as you can, all the way to the root. I want the gag in your mouth to act as a cock ring. Push it to the base until it sticks, and you will be fastened to me until I'm sated." 

Crowley whines with blatant want, sucking in his last lungful of lust-scented air and then he follows the order. He curls his devilish tongue around Aziraphale's cockhead one last time and pushes forward and down until the ring of the spider gag can go no further, trapped at the base of Aziraphale's blessedly thick cock. The girth and thundering blood trap him there with his teeth hooked over the ring and the straps behind his head allowing for no movement. That fat cockhead is lodged past his tonsils, nearly as far as his larynx. The stretch of it is edging on _painful and alarming_.

Predictably, he panicks a bit. 

Aziraphale watches as Crowley's fists form in his cuffs as he struggles against the clips first, then his neck, straining against the pressure within his throat and the completely trapped position he's in. His spine flexes, hips working against the intrusion in his arse and his cock, and ultimately the overpowering need to _escape_. The angel combs his fingers through his beloved demon's shaggy curls and waits it out. The panic never lasts long, but he knows it is hard to supress, even though they trust one another implicitly. 

"Crowley, _my love,_ you are _perfectly safe_. You do not need to breathe, and this is only mildly uncomfortable at worst. Do you need to stop?" Aziraphale speaks calmly and cooly as reaches for and holds Crowley's fingertips, reminding him that he can get out with a simple movement.

The demon stills, eyes watering at the gag reflex he's fighting to supress, and then all at once he relaxes. Crowley shakes his head the little he can and rolls his tongue experimentally against the underside of the angel's shaft. 

Aziraphale sucks in a breath and fights against rolling his hips, which will only hurt one or the other of them until he has come and his cock softened enough to slide out of the ring squeezing the base of his cock. 

"Now that we are settled, my dear, I have work to do. Be a good pet and help me get rid of this pesky erection so that I can get this paperwork over and done with. I'm sure with that talented mouth of yours I'll be coming in no time." Aziraphale traces the stretched line of Crowley's bottom lip and scoots his chair forward a bit, clipping the final carabiner from the seat to the D-ring of the demon's collar. "Final thing before my attention is not on you for the duration: would you like the ear plugs or not?" 

Crowley hesitates for a moment, dragging his working thoughts to the forefront, and nods. Closing out that final sense will force him to focus entirely on the service of this act, and that is what they both want out of this experiment, today. 

"Good idea, my beautiful beloved." Aziraphale reaches down and slides the black silk sleeping mask on Crowley's face and works two soft, squishy earplugs into his ears. Aziraphale removes his hands after a final, lingering caress through his hair. 

The scene begins, and the demon goes to work. 

There isn't much he can do, with the ring jamming his jaw open and the thick cock trapping his tongue down from tip to root, but he undulates the muscle anyway, closing his lips around the ring for suction and swallowing around that fat cockhead as best his straining throat muscles can. The stretch still burns a bit, and will do until the muscles give up and accept the intrusion. He works at it anyway, small bobs of his head that are really just nodding along because of the short chain at his throat. He can feel the faint scratching of Aziraphale's pen on the worktop above his head and every little hitch of his distracted breathing through his angel's skin as he does his due diligence against the delicious treat buried in his throat. 

Crowley only wishes he could _taste_ it. Aziraphale is buried far too deep for any tasting to be going on, and besides, Crowley can't breathe anyway. Everything is dark and stuffed full; his mouth, his arse, even his cock. His ears, too.

 _Surely dribbling freely on the cushion by now_ , he thinks idly. 

A palm comes down into his hair, startling Crowley's musing thoughts with a mental interruption. " _You're still thinking too much, Crowley. Hush, now. Focus on me and your job right now, nothing else matters_." 

Crowley blinks behind the mask and pushes a tiny bit into the fingers on his scalp, earning a light scritching. If he could make a noise of contentment, he would. 

_Right_.

Back to making his angel come. Crowkey redoubled his efforts with his tongue and throat, rocking the tiniest bit available down and back. Aziraphale seems to appreciate the job; his cock pulses heavy on the demon's tongue and after just a few moments he hears the telling sigh of his angel coming, though he can neither taste nor feel much of it. The feeling of his throat suddenly being congested is washed away with a swallow and then the cock in his mouth is softening, shrinking back a bit.

Aziraphale's fat glans pops out of the tight ring of Crowley's throat and he nearly gags anew. 

Aziraphale pets his hair, and somehow Crowley can tell that he isnt looking down. His eyes are still on the desktop, on his papers and ancient computer. Crowley starts to move back but is stopped by the short chain, and then he remembers. " _Stay still for me, dear. Final word of advice. You know your job for the day is to keep my cock nice and warm and wet in that pretty mouth. Now be still and do your job, or you're keeping that contrapment on your cock and those cuffs on your wrists for a month_." 

With his throat free, Crowley is free to whine petulantly at the threat, though his cock pulses weakly in its cage and his arse clenches at the toy at the idea of his beloved angel keping him like a powerless plaything for so long. 

In answer, he lays his forehead against the swell of Aziraphale's belly and nestles that fat, soft, temporarily sated cock deeper into his mouth with his tongue curling sinuously around the shaft.

And waits. 


	2. Pet play?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley indulges Aziraphale's whim and turns into a snake for the first time in quite a long time.  
> Cuddles, sun spots, neck-wearing, fondling, flirting, celestial transformation, and mating knots ensue.  
> A fluffy time is had by all.

"Oh, you wretch." Aziraphale huffed indignantly from the doorway of the bedroom, setting down his cup and saucer with a clink on the bedside. 

The sound roused Crowley a bit from his doze, having fallen back asleep after a languid stretch that left him on his knees, bare arse in the air and chest on the bed, arms akimbo above his head. 

"Hrm?" He said. 

Aziraphale tutted. "Honestly, my dear. Out of bed with you. I had rather hoped for a spot of company while I run the shop today." 

"M'r like help scarin' off cus'omers," Crowley yawned hugely, back flexing again in a stretch. Scales rippled across the surface of him and Aziraphale paused, pondering quietly long enough for Crowley to nearly fall asleep again. 

"I might have an idea for that." 

"Mrf?" 

"Change into a serpent for me. Something manageable to carry about but imposing." 

"You could literally lift the Bentley if asked, angel. 'S'not very specific." 

"A meter or so will do, my dear. Chop-chop." He patted Crowley on the rump affectionately and waits. 

Crowley huffed and poured himself forward, limbs disappearing into smooth black and oxblood red scales and loops of smooth muscle. He allowed Aziraphale to pet down his back and then lift him bodily as he wound around the angel's shoulder and trailed his tail down a thick upper arm. 

"I'll put you in a nice sun spot, shall I?" 

"Sssounds nice, angel." 

Aziraphale picked up his tea and moved down to the shop, depositing Crowley carefully on a round table by the window which would get sun most of the day. The dusty stack of books there cleaned itself with a thought. Crowley coiled himself on a warmed stack and let his loops trail over the edges a bit. If a human came close there was no way to miss him, which would cause a fun startle out of them. 

"Have a nice nap, my dear. I may bother you in a bit," Aziraphale petted a thumb across the scales of Crowley's head and smiled, walking off to unlock the doors and begin his day. 

* * *

In all, it was a rather nice day for a nap. The sun was shockingly bright for a London fall day, the air tolerably cool and breezy. And in one 200 year old bookshop, a large snake slept on. 

"Oh, I wouldn't," a most familiar voice snapped primly.

Crowley stirred when the air above his head shifted, eyes re-focusing on the room as a darkskinned hand jolted back at the sharp admonishment from Aziraphale. 

"Oh-s--sorry. He's- or, well. He or _she_ is rather pretty." 

"Yes, well. One must ask if they can touch. He might have bitten first and asked questions later if you had startled him awake." 

"Oh, you're right of course, sir. May I?" 

"Well don't ask me."

"Right. Erm. May I pet you, Mr Snake?" 

Crowley focused his eyes on the young human in front of him. A parent was somewhere in the shelves; he could taste them on the air. He flicked his tongue and picked his head up, butting against a hovering palm. 

"There, see? His name is Anthony. He's quite sweet if you know how to make him behave." Aziraphale beamed smugly at Crowley's low, indignant hiss and went back to shelving and looming around the parent, urging them to leave. 

Crowley blinked and looked back at the child carefully petting his back. He flicked his tongue, tasting Aziraphale's indulgent pleasure with his behavior (and faint arousal) and laid his head back down to wait, fully expecting the parent to be successfully chased off in short order. 

"You're very pretty." The child leaned in and whispered, as if sharing a secret, and continued to stroke gently down Crowley's spine. He hissed slightly at the indignity of it, but laid still all the same. "Mum won't let me have any reptiles, 'specially not a _snake_ , but I prefer things like you over cats or dogs. Do you eat mice?" 

If the demon could have rolled his eyes, he would have. 

"No. Maybe eggs, then?" 

"Kit, get away from that _thing_ , my word!" A woman came flapping loudly across the room and snatched the child's hand away and yanked him out of the store with a low stream of curses at the purveyor and his apparently-terrifying pet. 

Aziraphale watched them go and harrumphed. "I persuaded her to take him for an ice cream," Crowley said, tongue flicking over an angelic wrist as Aziraphale picked him up to loop around his neck. 

"Yes, he was rather polite for a child. And how did you enjoy being a pet for the day?" 

"Was nice," Crowley yawned, jaw unhinging. "I have to say, I thought there would be more innuendoes tossed my way when you suggested it." 

"Well. We can fix that now," Aziraphale snapped and the doors locked just as another customer was reaching for the handle. They knocked impatiently and he sniffed, "We are _quite_ closed!" 

The human stomped away, grumbling, and Aziraphale put down the curtains, taking the both of them up to the small flat above the shop. 

"Shall I match you, dear?" 

"Oh. _Pleasssse_ ," Crowley hissed, delighted. 

"Yes, alright." Aziraphale fussily smoothed out the duvet and laid him on the bed. The fire was stoked to a sustainable level with a snap and with another, Aziraphale was coiling down into wide loops of creamy-white muscle with an astonishingly shiny gold underbelly. 

He was broader than Crowley but shorter by a few inches, his eyes a crystalline blue against the bedding below their bellies. Crowley slithered to him immediately and ran their snouts together, tasting the arousal building in the pheromones there. 

"I rather think since you've laid around all day you can do the work," the angel murmured, indulging in Crowley wrapping around him.

"Gladly, angel." The darker snake laid his head atop the lighter and squeezed in a slow clench that lined up their cloaca. Crowley rather enjoyed this novel experience, having never expected mating as a snake to happen at all. Aziraphale tended to come up with the most delightful exploits for them to try, though, so he couldn't exactly say he was surprised when it came up last time. 

"Gonna leave a plug in you. You liked it last time." Aziraphale hummed in answer, seeming smug about it. Crowley hissed and pressed their vents together, feeling a bit breathless as one hemipenis worked deep inside the warm, wet cloaca his angel had opened for him. He rubbed his chin atop Aziraphale's head and flicked his tongue frantically, trying to twist deeper. "Bigger this time. I know what you're after." 

"You do?" Aziraphale shunted his tail back and forth, squeezing against the demon until one hemipenis was exhausted and the other eased in in its place.

Hours passed. Crowley was breathless, chin rubbing fervently again as much as he could muster. 

"Yessss. You like feeling claimed, I know it. Almost as much as you like claiming me." 

"Well then. Perhaps you should make it count, I don't think you'll have the opportunity again for some time." 

Crowley whined (which- being a snake- came out a bit more like a whistling hiss) and came again, leaving his pleasure in the rippling muscle of Aziraphale's wet, stretched cloaca. He wound against the angel tighter, not letting him escape even an inch as the plug formed and was deposited. 

When they finally separated, aziraphale blinked a bit in surprise and flickered his tongue, obviously testing the sensation of the plug out for a moment before moving on.

For a week after, any time they bickered it was likely that Crowley would snap and resupply the dwindling mating plug, effectively knocking the wind out of Aziraphale's sails for a few moments until he managed to ignore the incessant pressure long enough to close up the shop and put the demon back in his place. 


End file.
